Staying
by findafight
Summary: WWI. She had snuck into her own army, pretending to be a boy for almost two years, she wasn't going to let him send her home. She was going to be there. She was going to, because she needed to be. Because she wasn't her brother and she sure as hell wasn't her father. Fem!Canada
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia. Nor do I intend to offend anyone with this work of fiction.

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"I will _not _leave. You cannot make me anymore!" her tone was harsh, firm, and not like anything he had heard come from her mouth for a very long time.

He tried to reason with her; after all, he had raised her to be sensible. "Please, think about it. This is no place for a girl such as yourself to be."

"This isn't a place for _anybody _to be_! _Arthur," he flinched. It was her brother that called him Arthur. She would always call him Dad, Father, even Pops occasionally, but never Arthur. "We're in the middle of a goddamned war! None of those boys should be in the trenches fighting for their lives!" her voice was rising. She never yelled-ever-and it was unsettling. "But here we are, sitting in puddles, sleeping in mud and marching in blood."

"But you should be at home, doing what you can from there…"

Her voice was firm, "The mind and hearts of my people are here; don't think I won't be too. I have every right to be here as you or Al. Hell, probably more than Al, he just got here and has no idea what it's like out there, while I've been here for the past two years." That was right; she had snuck into her own army.

"Now, listen… I really don't think you know quite how harsh it really is out there. Women aren't built form this kind of thing, poppet."

"Don't 'poppet' me. I do know what it's like out there. And I've lasted out there longer than most men do, though during that I _was_ a 'boy'. But it's not like we take regular bathes out here when they could figure out some obvious features and the only reason I'm talking about this with you is that some people in this camp don't know how to knock…" she ran her hand through her hair, usually a light golden colour, was now almost brown from the amount of filth and ash that had gathered in it from excessive days of not washing it. "Anyway, my men need me out there. And if you think you can send me away and I'll stay, let me remind you that I have already snuck into my own military once. It won't be too difficult to do it again."

He was struggling with this. She was never the rebellious one. He needed to calm her down and reassure her that the troops would be fine without her. "Please, Mattea, listen to reason. War is no place for a girl. Now that Alfred and his troops are here, your men won't have to go on as many key missions and I'm sure that Al can handle your men if you aren't there…"

Something wasn't right. Well, something was even less right than it was when she was yelling at him. She had frozen, eyes wide in shock, lips twitching, searching for words. She looked down and, words dripping with the weight of the hurt and sadness of being invisible and overlooked for her older twin for centuries, whispered, almost too quiet to hear, "He always was your favorite."

That was a low blow. The falsity of her statement made Arthur want to jump up and correct her. She had no idea what she was talking about. She was faster at recovering though, and almost as soon as the words had left her mouth her head snapped up and she glared at him with the eyes of a stranger.

They were cold and hard, filled with an anger that didn't suit her soft features. As she stared at him with these new eyes she said, clear, louder than her normal tone, and full of contempt, "England, go to hell."

She turned and walked briskly from the tent as Arthur stared after her.

. . . . . .

Arthur sat in a chair, head in his hands with his elbows resting on his knees. "Shit," he said softly.

"Shit what?" a voice penetrated the silence. Arthur didn't need to look up to know that it belonged to Alfred. "It's unlike you to swear like that…_now_." He could hear the thinly veiled smile in the last word.

"Alfred, honestly, not now." He snapped as he ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head when it reached the back.

"Now, now, Arthur, what's got your panties in a bunch?" the American was _still_ mocking him. Not that it was unusual.

"I seem to have gone off and done something rather stupid." He deadpanned. No need to make it more painful than it already was. "Spoken to Mattea recently? She'll have a better story than me."

"Haven't gotten a letter from her, soooo no. Why?"

Arthur stared at his former colony. He couldn't be serious. Would Mattea really not tell Alfred or contact him in anyway? "Why would she need to send you a letter?"

Alfred's eyes narrowed "You asked if we had spoken…."

"Spoken, not written to each other."

"Then by recently you mean almost three years ago?" Alfred's brow furrowed as he pulled a chair up in front of the Brit.

"You really don't know…my, she _is _keeping a low profile. Though the missions she's been on…" He said more to himself than to the man now sitting in front of him.

Alfred's tone became serious, "Don't know what Arthur? What are you talking about?"

"Mattea is here, Alfred, fighting alongside her troops. At first as a male soldier but I believe they now know her true identity." His voice was smooth, trying to sound nonchalant.

The American stared at him with wide eyes that slowly hardened. Hands gripping the armrests of his chair so hard the knuckles turned white, he said, through gritted teeth, "You brought her here? You're making her fight? What the _hell_ is wrong with you?! She isn't ready for this!" Arthur could tell that Alfred was trying his hardest not to yell and/or punch him.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. He couldn't help but snap back though "What do you think? Why would I bring her to this hellhole?" He gestured nowhere in particular and took a breath and kept going. "As soon as I found out she was here I tried to send her home, convince her that it was no place for her. She wouldn't budge." He smiled slightly, "Just as stubborn as you, when she wants to be, that one." He sniffed. "Anyway, during our discussion she got rather…worked up…and well, I may have said some things that were true but entirely insensitive to her… and those may have offended her greatly. I regret it, but she doesn't seem to want to forgive or forget it and insists on calling me 'England', 'Arthur', and even 'commander Kirkland'."

"She does that, doesn't she? Use words to rub it in, I mean." Alfred added.

"Yes. I've never seen her this aggravated though. Usually she'll apologize within a few hours. This has gone on for weeks."

"Weeks?"

"Yes, weeks."

The American sighed and leaned back in the chair. "This is war time Mattie."

"But as I hear, Canada and England are getting along quite fine."

"Yes, our countries are, but we aren't. And I've seen wartime Mattea before, and this is totally different."

"Oh, well, this is more. She's in all-out 'don't-mess-with-me-my-friends-or-my-family-or-else' mode. The 'or else' factor should not be taken lightly, especially for personal matters. So, first off," he began to tick things off on his fingers, "this is war, so she's already really fierce. Second, if I heard you correctly, she snuck into her own army? That sounds pretty intense. And thirdly," looked pointedly at Arthur, "she probably expects you to not say offensive things to her. Especially considering you _are _allies, and she's had your back for quite some time."

"You're lucky though, given the situation. She's your ally. _You _aren't fighting her and her troops, just happened to offend her. Believe me, you don't want to tick her off _and then _be at war with her, I speak from experience. She's …" his eyes widened and he shivered, remembering something unpleasant, "_scary,_ when she's angry, and wants to hurt you."

Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow.

"War of 1812, Iggy. While you were busy losing navy battles, she was busy mostly kicking ass. _My_ ass, more specifically." It was America's turn to raise an eyebrow at England's expression. He chuckled as he spoke, "you think manifest destiny just… _died _after that? That I didn't try to invade again because we were buds? Oh, no. There were quite a few of my people that still wanted Canada, but I just couldn't handle it again. That girl is a monster when she's pissed off…"he looked up and smiled "Though we're good now."

Arthur was silent for a few moments as he mulled this information over. He was about to ask Alfred just what Mattea-sweet, quiet, polite, and kind Mattea- did to make him rethink his "conquer all of North America" ideal when the other nation spoke again.

"What exactly did you say to her? It takes a lot to send her off like that, especially when you're just using words. She's a tough girl to break."

He sighed. Arthur had avoided saying exactly what he had said to Mattea to avoid the shame. He took a deep breath before beginning. "When she refused to leave, I told her that it was no place for a girl and that since you were here now, Alfred, her troops wouldn't need to take on as many key missions, and the ones they did go on, you could supervise. That is when she ended the conversation with 'he-'"Arthur stopped himself. He didn't need to say that part. " -with a swift 'go to hell, England.' And stomped out of the tent."

America was obviously mulling over what he had just been told, hand rubbing his chin as he squinted at the floor. "But, that's all true. I'll totally be the hero and take over her army. I don't see why she's going on like how she is…"

The Brit rubbed his forehead. Alfred didn't understand and he was going to have to explain just what he had said meant.

"No, now…imagine you're Mattea." He said standing up and beginning to pace around the small tent. "You represent Canada. You are female and currently, in your country, women are fighting for the vote. You have pretended to be a male solider for just about two years." The American had shut his eyes and was nodding. Alright then. "You have fought in some key battles for the Allies and worked your way quickly up the ranks. Now I come along. I tell you that this place is…unsuitable for you."

"Bullshit. Been here long enough to know what's going on. I can handle this. Girls are tough." He mumbled under his breath.

"Yes, well, now I'm saying that your military doesn't need to take key offensive missions now that America, your brother, is here."

Alfred stiffened. He seemed to be in some kind of trance. "Not fair. They took Vimy…"

"And the important missions they _do_ go on, you don't have to supervise. Alfred can do that."

"My…army…" Alfred whispered.

"_Now _do you understand?" Alfred immediately opened his eyes and looked at the elder Nation. "In less than five minutes, I not only managed to insult your gender and country, but also your army and your ability to do your duties as a nation!"

Arthur slumped back into this chair and put his head in his hands. "If I had said those things to you, you would've punched e in the mouth. All she did was say you were my favorite. Hurt more though."

"What-" at that moment they heard movement and voices outside the tent. Straining to hear, both Nations leaned towards the opening.

The people outside seemed to be speaking in very fast French. One seemed to be trying to apologize, while the other was cooling down.

"What are they saying?" Alfred asked. Arthur just shook his head. Both voices spoke too fast and slurred so that, with his crude understanding of the language after fighting with Francis for so long, couldn't make out what they were saying.

The voices seemed to come to an agreement and slowed enough for him to make out what they were saying.

A voice quietly chuckled. "Ah, merci. Vous voyez ... mon frère est un idiot. Je devrais lui parler sous peu de temps et assurez-vous qu'il sait." America looked at his former colonizer, who put a finger to his lips.

"Très bien. S'il vous plaît assurez-vous qu'il ne se reproduise pas. Bonne nuit, madame."

"Bonne nuit." The voice opened the flap and walked into the tent, her smile slowly melting as she saw who was sitting in it.

* * *

Translations: "Thank you. You see ... my brother is an idiot. I will be speaking to him shortly and make sure he knows."

"All right. Please make sure it does not happen again. Good night."

"Good night, sir."

I appologize for the hodge podge of my French and google translate. My French is a bit rusty. And the English quotation marks.

A/N: This was a little head cannon of mine. I started it at around a week ago while high on ricola and sleepytime tea. I originally was going to make it a one-shot, but my friend convinced me to post it earlier with multiple chapters. so here it is. I'm not sure how long it's going to be...

a side note, Mattea is the female version of Matthew. in case you were wondering.

History time!

I'll try to be quick, this isn't the main war. The war of 1812 (1812-1815)was a war that was (technically) between England and America. American's wanted to control Upper and Lower Canada and the land west of them in what is called "Manifest Destiny". battles were fought on both land and sea. The ones people always mention (myself included) are the invasion of York, an American offensive where they burned it down, and when the British burned Washington in retaliation to York. This is why Alfred says Matt is"scary". And although the war of 1812 is officially seen as a war between Britain and the U.S., it was "the war for Canada", Canadians see it as a major victory for themselves. If the American invasion had been successful, there would be no Canada. that would kinda suck.  
It was a war for territory, and, as my grade 7 social teacher said "we won that war. Doesn't matter that we gave it all back, we're nice, we had more territory in the end." At the treaty of Ghent both sides gave back what territory they had claimed (Canada or Britian had claimed more) and a border for North America west of the great lakes was decided upon: the 49th parallel. Want more? the Canadian government set up a nice website to honour the 100th anniversary: www. .ca

Women had fought for the vote since the 1800's. It wasn't until the first world war rolled along that it got hard to ignore them. they took on jobs that men usually were pretty badass if you ask me. Google "the famous five" and you can learn all about how hardcore those gals were, fighting for the vote and to be persons and to be able to be in polotics. They were Canadian.

I like to imagine women walking into the voting both (or whatever they had back then) for the first time, wearing their work clothes, stained in oil, hair tied back, snapping their fingers at an old white guy shaking his head at them, saying "Bitch, no. We gunna vote." and walking past him.

...

If I need to add, remove, or fix, anything, just let me know! I will be happy to do so. And remember to review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot bunny.

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Upon seeing the two men in her tent, Canada froze. She was expecting her brother, that was true, but not England. She had avoided him like the plague after their row. She did_ not _want to talk to him, through anger and a slight sense of shame and guilt at yelling at him.

When she was forced to interact with him, she was cold, calling him 'commander' or 'England' and not making any eye contact. This was uncharacteristically impolite for the Canadian, and she hated doing it, but she felt it was her obligation to teach the elder a lesson about how strong girls could be.

She got worked up thinking about it. Taking a breath to calm down, she addressed her family that was invading her tent. "Hi, Alfred. I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow morning. How are you?" she asked with a soft smile towards her brother.

"I…" Being at a total loss for words, he shot Arthur a look. So this was why he had to come here. He had assumed it was to see England, since he was in the tent when he got there. Obviously the Brit had failed to mention it was _Canada's_ tent.

Pulling up a chair and completely ignoring England, she began unlacing her boots, red and green dog tags hanging out of her jacket. When he didn't answer right away, she looked up expectantly, eyebrows raised. "You alright, Al?"

He waved her off, "Yeah, yeah. Fine. But…Mattea, why didn't you tell me you were here?"

She tilted her head to the side, knitting her eyebrows together. "I thought you knew, Al. After I was found out, my boss said he'd contact your boss, who would tell you. He didn't?"

"No, nothing."

"Then how did you find out? You must have known coming here you were going to see me. They must have told you who it was you were meeting with…"

Alfred shook his head. "They didn't. They just said I had to talk to someone, and when I got here they lead me to this tent, told me to wait a bit, and I just thought that… it was Arthur I was supposed to talk to…"

Mattea glanced at Arthur, then turned her attention back to her brother. "Was he-" she gestured with her head to her father, "here when you came in?"

He nodded. "Mattie, why did you come here? Didn't you know what it was going to be like? And why didn't you _tell me?_ I had no idea where you were since I got here. I thought you were back home…"

Canada sighed. "Al, I came for the same reason you and Arthur-" in the corner, the former empire flinched when she said his name, and she glared at him. "Came here. My country is at war. I'm not going to sit around knitting socks while ten percent of my population is in the army, and when my family is fighting." She threw her boots under the cot and started unbuttoning her jacket.

"I'm going to do my part. It's no different for my soldiers as it is for yours; when I'm here, their morale is a little better, knowing they have something worth fighting for, instead of European politics. They need me as much as I need them." She threw her coat absentmindedly onto the chair Arthur happened to be sitting on. He made a muffled noise when it landed on him that caused her to turn.

"Ah! Sorry, D-Arthur. Sorry. I didn't mean to throw it on you. That's usually my coat chair, you see." She said sheepishly as she removed the coat from on top of her

"Anyway," she said, turning back to her brother, "what did you need to talk about? They didn't really tell me anything other than you were coming. "

He shook his head "No, nothing really urgent, just to see about supplies and stuff."

"Alright. Can we talk about it tomorrow? I'm sort of tiered…"

Alfred stood up, "yeah, of course. I'll give you and Iggy here a tour of my camp. My general wants to talk with you too. That's why I was early; they sent me to get you." He paused a moment, sizing up his sister.

"Matt…have you grown? We need to measure! Hold still…" she obediently stood tall as Alfred stepped forward and place his hand on the top of her head; drawing it towards himself while keeping it flat. "You have, Mattie! You used to be up to my chin, and now you're almost to my forehead! Good job, sis. Growing like that."

Mattea smiled, "Only you, Al, could be so pleased about me growing fast."

He winked, "Big brothers are supposed to do things like that."

She put her hands on her hips in mock annoyance, "You may be the older Nation, but I'm the older twin, Al."

Alfred tapped the side of his nose, "You can't prove that…"

Their banter was cut off by a cough from the corner that made them both jump. England had stood up and was looking at them expectantly.

"If you two are finished chatting, I think we'll be going now. Mattea, I also came to tell you that we are meeting up at the American camp. There will be a lorry to pick you up at 0700 hours."

Mattea stared at him, and then nodded. "How long will it take to get to there?"

"Not long. It depends on the roads and weather. I'll be off, now. See you all tomorrow."

"Good bye, Arthur." she said as she slumped onto the cot, rubbing her eyes under her glasses.

Alfred sat down beside her. "Still angry with him, I see."

"Still observant, I see."

He slapped her back, "Now come on, Matt! You gotta forgive and forget!"

She sighed and learned back, looking at the top of the tent and running her hands through her hair. "Al, I try. But he just won't see how I _am_ strong enough, how I _am _big enough, how I _am _my own country that can to do things on my own!" she paused a moment and looked at the hair in her hands. "Jeez, I need a trim. I don't think I've cut it since Vimy…"

"That was just after I got here, right?"

"Yeah…Al, do you know who the first person to recognize me was?" Mattea asked, a slight smile stretching her lips.

"No…wasn't it one of your men?"

She shook her head. "No. It was _Prussia _of all people."

Alfred stared at his sister, eyebrows raised.

His twin chuckled. "I know. He saw me at Vimy, rushed at me, then laughed and said 'You've got guts, kid. Didn't think old Iggy would have let you come.' When I told him that he didn't know I was here he smiled, saying 'Good on ya, stickin' it to your old man. Teach him a lesson, because' and he gestured to everything that was going on around us- mind you, we weren't having a friendly conversation; we were both trying to kill each other-'you sure are teaching me something.' And he ran off."

"Mattie, that is…"

"Crazy? Yup. And then of course everyone learned the value of _knocking_ on doors." She sighed. "I really do need to cut my hair."

Alfred grinned. "I could give you I trim if you want, Matt."

She jerked away from her brother. "Not after last time. I would like my hair on my head and the same length all over, thank you."

"Aww, it wasn't that bad, Mattie!"

"Yes, it was, Alfred. No matter what anyone says to you, never, _ever, _become a barber. You will not have happy customers."

Alfred laughed and tickled her tummy. "And you shouldn't become a polititian; everyone would love you and nothing would get done."

Mattea giggled and doubled over. "P-perhaps." She gasped, trying to swipe Alfred's hands away. "N-now, Al! Stop! Stop! Uncle!" she cried between laughs.

Alfred, finally relenting, straightened up, suddenly getting serious. "You sure you're alright, Matt?"

Mattea smiled sadly at her brother, knowing what he was asking. "I manage, Al. No one wants a girl around, but they respect me nonetheless. I'll be fine." She held back, not wanting him to worry.

He smiled, he knew she hadn't said everything, but who could blame her after everything that had happened? He stood. "I better get going. See you tomorrow?"

"Good night, Alfred. See you tomorrow." She confirmed.

As he walked out of her tent, Alfred thought about how much his sister wasn't telling him, and how much she really didn't deserve whatever it was that was bothering her.

* * *

A/N:

Just some random sibling banter. (Can't you see them, just talking like kids who've known each other all their lives? I can…:3) Oh, the family dynamic, it's fun. I can see Al dragging Matt all around on adventures and such, and Arthur just amazed that they can see these imaginary worlds.

It should get more interesting, I promise. I actually planned to have this and the next chapter together, but it would be long and I feel bad for not updating sooner. So here you go. It was annoying and dry and I'm excited for the next chapter (Canada may or may not get all badass on someone. I'm not telling though.) because something might actually happen instead of dialogue. Some…_ACTION! _Oooohh. Yup.

I think soldiers back then would have been absolute pigs if there was a female solider with them. Some would be decent, but some…nope.

Don't forget to review!doitdoitdoit.

EDIT: Guys. I am so sorry for not up dating in FOREVER. School and stuff is just...gah. I'm doing my best. I try. I try.


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